Grief of the People
by Pyrrha615
Summary: A Bleach re-telling of the war against Troy and the Legend of Achilles, featuring Grimmjow as Achilles and Ichigo as Patroclus. Grimmichi. Rated M mainly for violence.
1. Prologue Start at the End

_Ok so, since I kinda suck at formulating interesting plots I thought I would re-tell some of the Greek myths and legends, Bleach style! I've kept the setting as Greece and kept their names from Bleach to make it easier. This one is a take on the story of the legendary warrior Achilles and the exiled Prince, Patroclus. AU and fairly OOC, so if that's not your thing then I'm sorry ._

_Enjoy_

Prologue – Start at the End

A chariot rushed past me, the horses pulling it straining at the bit to move faster, their hooves pounding the sun baked earth. The man at the reins pulled the two horse team around the sharp corner of the tall stone bricks on his left, which made up the smooth and unyielding wall surrounding Troy. The chariot spun out behind the horses, but not as much as the body tied to the back of it by its wrists. The large man's once brown hair had been matted black with dirt and blood, and his grey eyes were long since closed in death, his killer had given him that much. The splintered head of a spear was still nestled in his chest, his armour scratched and beaten. A loud crack broke through the air as the long whip came down on the horses' backs, urging them faster.

I watched on as the chariot passed the gates to the city, a small crowd gathered behind them to watch what had now become a daily routine around the city's walls. My gaze finally focused on the man driving the rushing cart, his lack of armour as obvious as the sun burning in the sky, a challenge to the prophecy hanging over him, or maybe just a resignation. His blue hair lay unwashed and lank over his neck, the subtle curls that had always waved through it flattened out by dirt.

I knew my body lay in his tent, bound tight in blankets to keep the heat and flies at bay. He hadn't buried me, so I could not move to the underworld, the domain of Hades where only the dead could walk. I simply had to watch on, tied to the land where I was killed, as the man in the chariot poured out his grief for me in the form of unbridled violence. If I still had any means of expression I would have frowned at what he had become, a mere shadow of himself; killing not for the war but for me. Of course I still enjoyed watching him fight, the swift movement of his feet and elegant arcs of his hands still enchanted me like they had when I first saw him fight many years ago. I wanted to call out to him, but his name just rushed through the shimmering entity I had become like a plume of smoke between fingers, and I had no physical being to appear in front of him. So I continued to watch after him as he drove the chariot back to his, our, camp. Later he would return to the continuing battle between the Greeks and the Trojans, killing mercilessly with those swift, mortally beautiful hands.

Surely enough he did return, hauling spears from the dead once he had used his own. Blood was spattered in uneven trails across his calves and abdomen, some of it had dried to rust brown and was flaking from the smoothness of his skin. He had no chariot now, choosing instead to walk the outskirts of Troy with no armour and only a spear for defence. Seeing the exposed skin of his back, tanned and shifting over well used and lean muscles, always made me cringe in fear for him. He was a willing target, although most were too scared of Greece's most powerful warrior to get close enough to drive a spear into his exposed flesh.

I had become accustomed to using the increased sight that I had gained in death to watch out for him, but I knew, even if I did see his death coming, that I could do nothing to stop it, and he would not want me to.

He walked closer to Troy's unshakeable and beautiful walls, built with the divine aid of Apollo, his steps slow and even. His feet were bare, the way he liked them to be; pink soles stained black with dirt and blood. Blue eyes, pools of the clearest tropical ocean, surveyed the battlefields below, the noise of which, to all of our ears, had faded to almost to silence after hearing it for so long. As I watched him I noticed a slight movement in one of the windows towering above the city of Troy. In the shadows of the sill a man with flowing, enviable cheekbones stood in the shadows, eyes trained on the vulnerable warrior below.

Then I saw the bow, already loaded with an arrow, held by thin, pale fingers. Another figure filled the window, skin gilded with the finest gold and hair dyed by the darkest night. Apollo. I knew he would not miss. A memory of emotion struck my soul, the vacancy left by a heart falling inside a chest, the desire to breathe deeply to fill the hole. I could only watch as the arrow loosed from the bow, guided by that golden hand, and slammed into its target. I moved closer as he fell, the arrow nestled between his shoulder blades; the sharp fulfilment of a prophecy. His knees struck the earth first. As he fell forwards I could see the relieved upturn to his lips, the shiver of his soul emerging from the body made the atmosphere tingle. I could finally speak to him, for just one moment.

"_Grimmjow"_

_Hope you enjoyed this, Adieu till next time!_


	2. Chapter 1 Let It All Burn

_Onto chapter two! The charaters are more in character in this one! It seemed better that way. _

_Enjoy._

Chapter One – Let It All Burn

Flames licked over paled skin, searing the water from it in blisters. Blue hair was quickly singed and burnt away as more flickering torches were added to the funeral pyre. I watched on, silent and unseen, unable to look away, as much as I may have wanted to. The echo of a heart sinking in my chest was back as I watched his body burn. The men had organised the funeral quickly, laying a rectangle of felled wood in the middle of the camp. It was not dry, so sap still spat from the wood in low crackles.

His soul had vanished when the first torches had been placed on the pyre; the air seemed at once barren and cloying without him. Memories shimmered through my entity, called up from the ether. I let them wash through me, as Grimmjow was more vivid and alive in my memories now than he was in front of me.

_I scuffed my feet on the stone floor as I ate, my sandals lying discarded under the bench. Boys sat around me, more for lack of space than out of friendship. They were all a little scared of me, the sour looking boy with the orange hair like fire. I stared across the table at one of them, his hair like the frost of the mountains, blue eyes like ice. He was slight, shorter than I and thinner to boot. I was too slow when he flicked his eyes up at me, turquoise irises grew more distant from his eyelids as he saw me gazing at him. I averted my eyes, not wanting to scare the poor boy too much. _

_I had no idea how the reason for my being here had spread between the boys, even thinking about it brought images flashing back. The pale boy with black hair who had dared to try to take something from me, back when I was a prince; only the foolish tried to take from a prince. He had had odd birth marks running down his face from the middle of his big ocean green eyes. I had kicked out at him, pushing him to the ground. I had not expected his skull to bear the brunt of his fall, cracking on impact, blood darkening raven hair. Afterwards father had sent me here, to Phthia, where King Peleus fostered boys in the hope of building a strong army, and erased my Prince's name along with it._

"_Budge up!" even the slang was said with poise and enunciation, a prince's tongue. I wondered how the boy's father would react to hearing language as common as that from the future king. I looked across the table, a tall figure had squeezed in next to the frosty haired boy. _

_I stared at him, as I had so taken to doing since I first saw him. He was Grimmjow, Prince of Phthia , and despite his grating personality he was undeniably and annoyingly beautiful. "Alright Pyrrhus?" _'flame haired'_ his tone was mocking, the words slow and deliberate on his tongue, he was staring at me as he spoke. The crackle in the air suggested the boys around me wanted to laugh, but dared not do anything to inflame my anger, lest I kill them too. He had taken to goading me ever since he caught me staring at him during dinner a few weeks ago. _

"_Yes, I am well" I spoke so as not to give away my annoyance at his arrogance. 'Glaukos' was what I wanted to return, _'blue'_, but even in exile I knew not to talk back to a prince. _

_I held his gaze for as long as he wanted, taking in his features now I had the opportunity. Bright blue eyes shone like the ocean in summer when the sun hit it, locks of bright blue hair only made them shine more. The God-given planes of his face always sculptor perfect, perhaps better. For a boy of fifteen he looked well proportioned and poised, not gangly and clumsy like the rest of us who were trying to get used to our newly grown limbs. I had heard rumours of his goddess mother, Thetis, the sea nymph. Any man would be foolish not to fear her. His eyes left mine, moving instead to the meal in front of us. He did not say anything else to me that evening, and I was cunning in the glances I threw his way._

_He did not sit at my table the next evening; instead he perched at the end of the table across the hall. I looked up to find him watching me, blue eyes on fire. I could not hold back the questioning look that flickered onto my face before I returned my gaze to my food, red seeping high into my cheeks to rival my hair. _

_When I left the hall he was waiting outside for me, I had seen him leave a good twenty minutes earlier, so his presence made me start. _

"_Ichigo" he stepped away from the wall he had been leaning on. _

So he did know my real name. Bastard. _Despite this I liked how my name sounded as it ghosted from his lips._

"_Grimmjow" I sunk to the floor a little in respect. _

"_Follow me" a command, solid, binding. I followed, fuming. _

_We walked through the winding passages of the palace, I watched the backs of his calves as he walked, the muscles contracting and shifting under tanned skin, the lighter flick of calloused heels. Eventually we reached a large room facing the coastline, the air tinted with salt. Grimmjow sat on a plush bed, richly dyed wool covering it. _

"_Far be it from me to question a prince, but why bring me here?" _

"_Why not?" there he went again, not answering a question with another question, I swallowed my irritation. He stood, closed the gap between us in less than a second. _

"_Make a habit of bringing boys to your room?" maybe I hadn't swallowed my annoyance well enough. To my relief he simply laughed, a strange sound almost like a barking dog heard from a distance._

"_Would you be impressed if I said I did?" and he does it again! This boy!_

"_No" I spat the word more than I had intended._

"_In that case, no I don't make a habit of it" he silently moved away from me again, to the large window, as I tried to decipher his answer. Had he lied? To please me? A soft breeze came through it, bringing in more salt. Feeling brave I moved towards him. I could see the tanned skin of his side that his tunic revealed; carved muscle and bone highlighted his ribs as he breathed. My feet seemed to make so much more noise against the floor than his, bringing to the window._

_As I stood next to him he began to talk to me, all arrogance and pretence drained from his voice. I didn't know or question why he had chosen to talk to me out of all the boys that his father had fostered, but I let him talk regardless. He talked about his mother, looking towards the soft swell of the ocean, about how she wanted to make him Greece's greatest warrior and a God, about how heroes were never happy in the end. I listened silently, watching his features as he talked, moving closer but refraining from touching him. I continued to stare after he had finished talking, watched as he turned to face me. _

"_Maybe I should have stopped talking a while ago" he said as he saw the baffled expression on my face. _

"_N-no it's fine, I just don't get why you would want to talk to me. I've barely had three words said to me by any of the boys since I got here!" _

"_I don't know, you're different, ain't trying to kiss my ass all the time" he shrugged dismissively. I frowned slightly at his coarse language, not befitting of a prince; but then again no one else was watching. Blue hair had darkened to cobalt in the twilight. Only now did I realise how long we had been standing there, looking out onto the scene below. I suddenly felt it in my legs and feet, a built up pressure. _

The men were throwing more torches onto the pyre, the noise and fresh cracking of the wood brought me back from my memories for a moment. The fire had engulfed his body now, turning the flesh and bone to ash.

_Adieu till next time! _


	3. Chapter 2 100 Suns

Chapter Two – 100 Suns

I had moved closer to Grimmjow's tent, watching the embers of his funeral pyre choke and fade to black. It was nearly dawn now, the light haze of the sun's halo was cresting the horizon. I had watched the same scene from different locations many times before.

'_So what was your life like before you came here?" Grimmjow picked at the strings of a lyre balanced on his chest idly, the erratic notes sounding oddly tuneful. He had had another bed moved into his room for me. I had, somehow, earned a place as his companion, even though all of the other boys had coveted the position much more than I ever had. _

"_OK I guess, solitary, but not dreadful" I looked over at him from where I lay, his face was turned to the ceiling, nose straight in its profile and blue eyes closed. Above him I could see through the large window, the haze of the sun's light was beginning to crawl over the horizon. We had taken to talking into the early hours, discussing this and that. "My father never thought me a worthy prince, or king. I often angered him" _

"_Daddy issues huh?" he looked to me now, that mischievous grin that only I got to see. _

"_Yeah, daddy issues" I laughed softly, remembering the angry face of my father as I had confessed to killing the boy. _

_Grimmjow set the lyre down in the narrow space between the beds, shifting so he could look at me in the half light, his blue eyes still shone bright in the dawn glow. They flicked up to the window, seeing the dawn rising he sat up. _

_He usually went to see his mother around dawn, he would stand in the salt of the ocean and she would know he was there, some mornings I imagined she may have waited for him. If we were not still talking I would often pretend to be asleep as he rose, watch him wash his face and dress through slits of eyes. I often saw him throw glances my way, one morning he had caught me feigning sleep with those sharp, half-God eyes. 'I could have them make you a statue if you wanna look at me all the time Pyrrhus?' he had said. 'No one could ever capture you right Grimmjow' I replied, without thinking. He had raised an eyebrow at that, spoken 'Oh really?'. I flushed; he dropped the matter, possibly saving it for a later interrogation, and left through the window. The soft crumple of fabric sounded his exit. _

_I had perched on the sill of the window, my back resting against the wall that made its frame. Grimmjow sat on the other side of the sill, resting against the opposite wall. My right foot dangled over the outside edge, we were only on the first floor so my toes were not far from the grass beneath. The moon was high in the sky, milky light reflected on the swell of the waves. Grimmjow had taken a jug of wine from the dinner hall for us to share, and so far he had downed the majority of the thick, cloudy red liquid. It showed in a flush across his high cheekbones, visible as a gray shadow in the moonlight which bleached his gold skin to gray. _

"_You know you shouldn't be turning up to see your mother half cut Grimmjow!" I raised an eyebrow at him as he finished what must have been his fourth tumbler at least, and that was after the three he had knocked back at dinner. It was odd for him to drink like this. _

"_I'm not bothered about it" he stretched his arm out and tossed the tumbler to the floor, it clattered on the stone, flecks of dark red splattered onto the tiles and sheepskin rug. At that moment I saw something cross his face; a sadness and, could it be, fear?_

"_Really? Why?" my tone was affronted, there was something he wasn't telling me, something that shook even him. He reached up to scrub his face with his hand, pushing strands of glossy blue hair out of the way. I waited for him, taking a deep draught from my own cup. The wine was bitter from too long in the open air, and heavy. _

"_We're going to war against Troy. Helen of Sparta was kidnapped by Prince Paris and an army is being assembled to retrieve her and take the riches of Troy" he spoke bluntly, his tone deadpan. "I must lead the army of Phthia, or I will never be the hero, or God, that my mother so wants me to be" he looked out of the window as he spoke, the moon was tumbling down to the ocean now, dawn would come soon. _

"_War?" all I could do was dumbly repeat the word he had used. _

"_Yes" he looked at me now, to gauge my reaction probably. His blue eyes were dull, distant. I knew there was still more to the truth, but he would not tell me now. He moved towards me, now crouched on the sill. "Will you come with me?" he removed the now empty tumbler from my hand, tossing it onto the floor with the other. I looked at him for a moment, I had my answer as soon as he spoke, but I knew I could not fight; our drill master had told me I fought like a woman, and I think he was right. But Grimmjow had always told me I could make a good soldier if I was fighting for something I believed in._

"_Yes" I said plainly, he was closer to me, face inches from mine. _

"_You don't have to" he looked suddenly worried, as if he had forced my hand. _

"_But I want to" my gaze flicked down to his lips, millimetres from mine. I moved, subtly and slowly, captured them in a kiss. The soft skin feeling warm against my own, the sharp taste of wine still on them. _

_I drew back, worried that I had offended him, and made him hate me. I went to hop down from the sill, only to be stopped by a strong hand around my wrist._

"_You can't do something like that and then run off" he moved off the sill, with a fluidity and ease which was uniquely his. I remained silent, allowed him to pull me off the ledge in a much less graceful manner. I crashed into his chest, and back onto his lips. I know I must feel cold to him, the breeze through the window had taken the heat from my face. He ran his tongue across my bottom lip, sending electric shivers down the nerves. My back hit the cold wall, half on and half off the frame of the window. The rush of air from my lungs sounded too loud in the room. The length of his chest was pressed against mine; I could feel his slow, athlete's pulse kicking strong against the erratic rush of my own. _

The echoes of sensation ran through me as I watched the ashes cool to white. The sun was fully over the horizon now, spilling its rays on a changed campsite. The men fought over Grimmjow, who should have his armour, the polished bronze helmet with a plume of pure afternoon sky. It sat on a dias in the middle of the camp, along with all the other riches the men had stolen from villages around Troy. The rescue mission for Helen seemed long lost in greed.


	4. Chapter 3 My Old Man Is a Bad Man

Chapter Three – My Old Man Is a Bad Man

Grimmjow's armour still sat on the dias, a couple of the men were charged to watch over it, to make sure none of the others stole it. How Agamemnon knew he could trust them not to steal it for themselves I could not tell. I sat and watched over it too; the bronze came to life in the firelight, shadows dancing across it almost how they had when he wore it in battle.

_The ocean swelled under the moon as we sat on the sand. We had made a temporary camp on an island close to Troy to wait for the rest of the kings and their armies. I moved my head to look at him sideways. _

"_So what is it you will not tell me?" I saw his jaw set tight, this was not the first time I had asked. _

"_Why is it that you keep asking?" he continued to look out to the ocean, his straight nose and sculpted jaw bones highlighted by the pale glow. _

"_Because I want the answer, Grimmjow" with this he rose to his feet, I thought he would walk away again, as he had done when I had asked him previously. He walked a few paces away from me, presenting his bare back to me, the finely tuned muscles moving to keep him balanced._

"_I will die here Ichigo, in this war; it is the only one I will fight. That is the price I must pay for fame, for immortality" he sounded like a man defeated. My eyes went wide and my heart sank through my stomach. I ought to be angry, but I knew he had had no choice, if he had he would have chose to stay with me. I said nothing. He turned to look at me, as if he could not have done when he said what he had. The moonlight could not bleach his eyes to grey, it was not in her power to hold back such a passion. "Will you stay silent?"_

"_What can I say Grimmjow?" I stood now, although I still could not match him in height. "I cannot hold you from this war, it would not be right" he stared at me intently, almost as if he was trying to search my soul. Slowly he moved closer, leaning to graze my lips with his own. "I just hope you get what you pay for Grimmjow" I said as he moved away._

_The landing of our ships on the shores near Troy did not go as we had hoped; our surprise appearance had been anticipated. As we drew close the shoreline was thick with Trojans, all armed and ready to strike. Arrows began to rain down as we got in range, despite the efforts of the rowers to slow us down, their frantic backwards paddling disturbing the calm ocean. Grimmjow looked at the shoreline with a creased brow, eyes moving over the air as if he were dizzy and trying to right his view. _

_A few men began to jump down from the ships, eager to draw Trojan blood, I watched them swim, high on glory and wine, frantic. Needless to say the water was soon running red as the Trojan arrows found them easily. I stumbled as the bottom of the hull struck the sand of the shore, sending a jolt through the boat. Strong, too swift hands caught me before thrusting a large shield into my hand._

"_Stand behind me and hold this up no matter what happens" he said as he grabbed a shield of his own, a large disk of bronze was all that separated him from the barrage of arrows. I nodded, hefting the shield to cover my torso and face. _

_Peering around the side of the shield I saw a few of our fleet begin to loose spears at the army on the beach. Following their path I could see we were not close enough. A rush of air near me drew my attention back to Grimmjow. He had joined the men in throwing spears, only he was superior. The dark iron point buried itself deep in the chest of a Trojan soldier, he fell, staining the water to crimson. A loud cry rose from our ranks, men appeared to hand more spears to Grimmjow. He threw over and over, I watched his movement, watched the muscles and sinew sing with his God's blood. Trojan after Trojan fell by his spears, and the grin widened on Grimmjow's face, I grew sick at the sight before remembering that he was born for this. Only he made Greece a formidable enemy, and he would die in this war. _

_After the outnumbering army of Greeks began to flood onto the shore the Trojans retreated, not stupid enough to fight a losing battle, especially not now they had seen Grimmjow. As we moored the ships the division of land began. I stood behind Grimmjow as he claimed a camp for us. The rich send off that we had left in Phthia seemed so far away now. _

_Soon King Agamemnon, who had assembled all of us to fight, decided that raiding the surrounding allied villages would be the best way to go. I had been at the meeting, seen him decide and tell every last Greek to fight. I knew that included me. The night before the first raid I could not sleep with the thought, that not only my life was on the line but also Grimmjow's, I had no idea when his death would come, or who would deal it. Grimmjow slept deeply beside me, the steady in and out of his breathing did little to calm me as it usually did. I stood, moved out of the tent and went down to the ocean. The wind whipped my face hard and moved my long hair, thick with stinging salt. As I looked to the ocean an idea occurred to me, perhaps a stupid one, but I went along with it anyway. _

"_THETIS" I began to shout, far enough from the camp that my cries would be lost in the wind. "THETIS" quickly a hand closed around my throat, choking me. _

"_I recommend you keep my name out of your dirty throat, mortal" bright yellow eyes with pupils much like a cat's looked at me angrily. Her purple hair was whipped to a frenzy by the wind. I thought to apologise to her, but her hand still kept breath from my lungs. She let me go, perhaps only to keep her son happy. "What is it you want?"_

"_Grimmjow" I choked out "When will he die?" I did not expect her to answer me, and for a moment I thought she even looked hurt. Her eyes dulled and she averted her gaze. _

"_After Hector is slain" she looked back to me and spoke after a long pause, pinning me in place with those inhuman eyes "Then he will fall"_

"_Thank you" I turned to walk up the beach back to our tent, I had nothing more to say to her._

"_Do not presume your life is so safe either, mortal" she called after me. I looked back only to find that she had gone, returned to the ocean. Suddenly I shivered and broke into a run back to the tent. _

_I had told Grimmjow what his mother said when I returned, and later that morning we silently put on each other's armour, the smell of fresh leather and brass heavy in the air._

The guards had long since fallen asleep, their task forgotten. A keen breeze stirred the dyed horsehair of the helmet's plume, the strands moving as they would have in battle. I stared long and hard at the brass, not a mark was left in it. No spear or arrow had ever touched him, or even gotten close. I wondered where he was, if he thought about me. I had asked Thetis about him, but she had told me with sad eyes that the underworld was somewhere she could not access.

_Okay, I know that this isn't true to the legend exactly, but I've moulded the story slightly for this fanfic. So I don't claim historical accuracy. _

_Adieu till next time! _


	5. Chapter 4 But I Can't Deny the Way

Chapter Four – But I Can't Deny the Way He Holds My Hand

_As we reached the village Agamemnon had decided upon as the first for our Phthian army to raid I found out why Grimmjow had known I would not be hurt. The villagers did not put up a fight at all; they mainly had nothing to fight with. I simply stood and watched on as houses burned and women ran and screamed. _

_I also watched him. I could not help the flickering feelings of hate for him at that moment as he scared and threatened people from their homes. Women and children ran from him, men attempted to defend against him. However there was no defence against his swift and economic way of fighting. He did not hurt them though, while the other men were bathed in the blood of fathers and sons, he was spotless. But, a bitter afterthought, he only avoided killing them because he knew I was watching. I would see him lurch forward, and then jolt to a stop as he remembered my presence._

_When we returned back to camp all of the spoils from the day were piled onto a dias in the centre of the camp, among the material possessions stood a small girl, dragged to the camp by her bound wrists. Her short, midnight black hair was disturbed from its normal flow, the hairs on one side matted with drying blood from a cut on her forehead. Wide, dark eyes looked nervously at us all, eyebrows raised high; I caught her gaze, but before I could smile weakly at her she had looked away. I saw at how the other men looked at her, like a deer to be hunted, another kill, only killing was the last thing on their minds. _

"_Say you will have her Grimm" the words fell from my mouth in a whispered rush. _

"_What would I do with her?" he looked at me with a strange confusion in cerulean irises._

"_I will look after her, she will not do well in the hands of any of these men" I heard the desperation in my voice, I had no rank in this army, I did not even have the meagre power of my father's name to fall back on. I would be laughed out of the camp if I requested her. _

"_Ok Ichigo" he still looked confused, a frown pulled his eyebrows together. _

_We watched on as Agamemnon walked onto the dias to begin splitting up the haul between the men, starting with the most valuable possessions for the most important men. Before he could open his mouth to claim the girl as his own Grimmjow stepped forward. _

"_I will take the girl Agamemnon" he had never bowed to the leader of our armies, Agamemnon had assembled us all here, but Grimmjow would never acknowledge his authority. _

_Agamemnon looked down at Grimmjow for a few tense seconds, he opened his mouth slowly, and I thought he would refuse, but then I saw him think about it before he nodded slowly. "Very well Prince of Phthia" _

"_I will send my men for the rest of my things Agamemnon" he looked towards me, inclining his head towards the girl, telling me I should lead her away with us. With that he turned and strode away, for a moment my eyes followed him, the sway of his hips and back as he moved, a motion that had always enchanted me; he seemed to make the ordinary extraordinary. After I came back to my senses I moved slowly towards the girl, gesturing for her to follow me. I began to follow Grimmjow's path, looking behind me to check she was following, she was, her wide eyes glued to my back. When we reached our camp the men were already setting up another small tent next to ours. _

_The girl shrunk back when Grimmjow approached us, he was still wearing the heavy and cumbersome armour._

"_It's OK" I turned and spoke to her, she looked at me blankly, fingers clasped together below still bound wrists. I turned to Grimmjow and pulled the small knife from his waist, slowly I gestured to her wrists. She stepped back, I pointed to the rope trying to tell her I wouldn't hurt her. Eventually she held her arms out and I quickly sliced through the ties. _

_Once we had stowed her safely in her tent and returned to our own I could feel Grimmjow's gaze on me, like the burning judgement of the Gods. _

"_What?" I eventually caved in and turned to him, the jug of wine I was about to fill my tumbler from clasped in my hands. _

"_You care too much you know Ichi?" he sighed. _

"_Do I? Would you have let Agamemnon have her? And break her?" I set the jug down on the floor, my cup unfilled._

"_Ichi, it's not our problem! He wouldn't have killed her." He did not sound as certain as I'm sure he would have liked to as he said the last part. I decided not to comment on it._

"_Well _she's _our problem now. My problem" _

_Ok so this chapter is real short... but I'm having real writers block with this atm! Idek why... Sorry!_

_Adieu till next time! _


	6. Chapter 5 Your Love

Chapter Five – Your Love

_Okay so for this chapter I thought I'd mix things up a bit and write from Grimmjow's point of view. Enjoy!_

There really wasn't enough to do in the underworld; I don't know how Hades hadn't gone insane. Well, thinking about it he actually had, several times over if I could hazard a guess. He seemed better in the months that Persephone spent here, but when she was gone... schizophrenic didn't even cover it. Many a time, out of my boredom, I had thought about going to have a fight with Cerberus, but the Old Man wouldn't like it if I killed his three headed mutt. I'd even thought about going after His woman; that would really piss Him off. But women weren't entirely my thing and I definitely didn't want to be thrown down to Tartarus.

Normally I wouldn't complain about the lack of activity, many a day had been wasted by me as a boy in the palace grounds, lyre balanced on my bare, sweat-sticky chest. I would coax the occasional note from the strings, enjoy the sea breeze, and when I tired of that I would grab a spear and have at the nearest olive or cypress tree. No, I do not get bored easily.

It's just that the lack of activity leads to thoughts of _him_. I would wonder where he was, why he was not here, if he thought of me as much as I him. And then I would _remember_.

_Soft, morning light was filtering through the thin walls of the tent when I opened my eyes. The crisp cold of the morning air like ice on my bare skin, the only warmth was trapped between my chest and the lean, tanned arm wrapped around it. _

"_Ichi" even my whisper sounded loud in the large, silent tent. He didn't stir at the sound of my voice, so I spoke again, louder. "Ichigo" I turned in his arms to face him, he looked at peace in sleep, with none of the hurt that I put on his face. _

_He slowly opened his eyes to me, the life returning to him. I had seen him wake a thousand times and it would never cease to calm my wrathful soul. _

"_Grimm?" he moved his hand from my waist to rub his eyes, the cold attacked the warmth he had left, devouring it. _

"_Stay here today" he looked at me with wide eyes._

"_Why?" _

"_Just do it Ichi" I sighed, I saw his eyes falter, that hurt was back "Please, you can take care of the girl" I began to get up from the bed, until I felt slender fingers pulling my wrist back down. Sparkling brown eyes met mine, like earth and ocean. _

"_Why Grimmjow?" I knew he had seen what had lingered in my eyes, I could never get anything past him, the cause of endless frustration._

"_I don't want you to see... what I can do" I sighed again, I had held back the day before, constantly reminded that his fawn-like eyes would be watching my every move, every strike of sinew out over bone, every breath, every wound. _

_He stayed silent, I knew, even though he had said I could do no wrong to him, I knew that he held judgement against me._

"_Just stay, OK?" _

"_OK" his fingers released my wrist and he slumped further against the makeshift bed. I stared at him for a long moment, soft, light eyelashes brushed his cheeks under closed eyes, wiry muscles conversed as he breathed, smooth tanned skin. I wished to capture him forever, my one true weakness. Eventually I left, to return to the bronze prison in which I would come to an end._

_After an extended period of raids Troy finally gave up and declared her acceptance of an embassy. The city was full of refugees, and disease and homelessness was slowly killing them all. The generals left to negotiate dressed in their finest, metal polished to a gleam and linens spotless. I returned to the tent, to Ichigo, to wait for their return. He had sent the girl, who's name he had found to be Rukia, back to her own tent. I was impressed that he had taught her fairly fluent Greek in the few weeks that he'd spent with her. Unfortunately she was still deathly afraid of me, especially when I was clad in the bronze prison of my armour. _

_He shuffled closer to me, laying his head on my shoulder, orange hair splaying over my skin. _

"_It won't be over so soon will it?" it wasn't really a question, the prophecy still hung heavy between us. Instead of answering him I hooked my fingers under his jaw and pulled his face up to mine, kissing him. His arms went around my neck, warm and smooth, his fingers un-calloused by the world of war. _

"_I love you Ichi" I spoke between kisses, quietly and quickly, I didn't want anyone else to hear, just him. Only him. _

"_Right back at ya" I felt him smile against my cheek as he spoke into my ear, pushing me back against the thin bed, hands wandering across my chest, making the fabric of my tunic tickle my skin. _

_My heart jumped as I looked up at him hovering above me, perfectly happy to let him rule me, the 'best of the Greeks' defeated easily by a warm smile and hot treacle eyes. How embarrassing! He knew this, and boy did he play it to his advantage. _

"_The Gods won't go easy on you for your bad behaviour you know?" I spoke to him in a half laugh as he trailed his lips down my stomach. He looked up at me; the wild grin on his lips even stormed his eyes, wide and feral. _

"_The Gods go easy on no one, besides, I can pray for forgiveness" he moved back to my lips, biting and pulling until they were red and swollen, pushing my tunic up and over my arms, discarding it to the other side of the tent. _

"_You don't deserve it" I joked as he left my lips alone, moving back over my chest, biting, licking, sucking on every inch of my skin, almost like a frenzied animal._

_Suddenly, at the sound of swearing, whinnying horses and a commotion out in the camp he stopped stock still, parted lips hovering over my navel. _

"_Fuckin' hell!" I growled and moved to retrieve my clothes before breezing out of the tent; feeling brown eyes following me. _

Cerberus growled three-fold in the distance, jolting me from my reverie, another arrival. All that came to my head was: Is it _him_?

_Okay, I know this is a short chapter but it was just a little experiment, do you guys wanna see more from Grimmjow's point of view? Or do you want Ichi back? Or a bit of both? Let me know what you thought ^^ _

_I'd also like to say thank you for all your lovely reviews, views and follows for this story, so, thank you!_

_Adieu till next time! _


	7. Interlude Party and Bullsh

Interlude – Party and Bullsh**

_Okay so this is a little bonus chapter thingy as I can't seem to get the main plot to carry itself forwards, I'm sure it will fit together eventually. So this is just a little piece of fluff to keep you entertained and my apology for the lack of chapters._

"_Fucking hell Ichigo, you dance like my dad!" I swung round to see cerulean eyes full of despair glaring at me over an amphora of wine. The king was throwing his son a birthday party more than worthy of a prince. The wine was more than plentiful and the music provided by a large group of men was more than loud enough._

"_You're just drunk, so it appears bad to you!" I bluff back at him._

"_Everything is supposed to look better when you're drunk stupid!" he took another long draught from the amphora, as if to rub in his point. I made an obscene gesture at him and continued, what I thought, was the best display of dancing at the goddamn party. "Ya still look like a right fool!" he bellowed at me as I danced, he would have launched the large ceramic container at me if it didn't still contain alcohol. _

"_Come over here and make me look less of a fool then!" I moved round to stare at him before delivering the killer blow "Or are you a worse dancer than me?" the blue haired idiot couldn't bear to lose to me, not once. _

"_Oh Pyrrha, how dare you doubt me?" he rose, setting the remaining wine down for later, and sauntered over to me. _

"_Doubt? Of course not!" I grinned up at him as he began to move to the music. Unfortunately for my ego he was markedly better at the art than I, the music appeared to move him, lean hips rocked under the ornately dyed fabric of his tunic. He barked out a laugh at my shocked and awed expression. _

_He pulled me to him, spinning me round so my back faced him._

"_Grimm!" I protested and tried to move away from him "People will see!"_

"_And you think they're sober enough to remember it tomorrow? Fuck, I don't think even I'm sober enough for that!" _

"_Wow Prince of Phthia, you're such a gentleman!" I let him pull me back to him, his fingers clamping around my waist, moving my hips along with his. I could feel the rush of his breath against my neck and the heat of him on my back. I let him guide me and closed my eyes to the spinning world around me. _

_Suddenly he stopped, dragging me along behind him as he went to retrieve the last of his wine. I was grateful to sit and watch him drink, another thing he did better than me. _

"_Want some?" he offered the container out to me, I shook my head in response, making the spinning dizziness even worse. I needed to learn to handle my drink. "Had too much already eh?" he didn't wait for my response before he downed the rest of the red liquid, some of it spilling down his neck in the process. _

"_Gods, Grimmjow how can you tolerate that?" I closed my eyes and rested back against the high back of my chair. I hear him laugh, the rough sound is too loud. I open my eyes to see his face right in front of mine. I jump, and immediately flush red. Another laugh._

"_Easy there!" he puts his hand on my arm "Come on"_

_Before I can protest he hauls me into his arms and carries me up to our room, grabbing another full amphora on the way up. _

"_Sleep it off woman" he sniggers as he places me on my bed. _

"_Fuck off! And you can't be still drinking?!" I wriggled my cold feet under the blankets while watching him. _

"_Why in Dionysus' name not?" he perched on the window sill before I closed my eyes once again to the spinning scene, feeling as if I was on the deck of a ship in a rough storm. _

_Somehow I must have fallen asleep without throwing up as when I woke harsh, blinding sunlight was flooding through the window. I sat up slowly, my head pounding. Looking over I saw Grimmjow asleep against the large amphora and the window frame. A suicidal part of my brain suddenly though it would be funny to ram the pot over the moron's head, but I know he would be able to kill me even with no vision. _

"_Hey moron, wake up!" I settled with nudging his foot with my own. He shifted, half awake, on the thin window sill, arms loosening around the amphora. It began to fall towards the stone floor. miraculously I caught it, even through the pounding headache and hangover fog that came with it. _

_Unfortunately, by the time I looked up Grimmjow had fallen the other way, out onto the grass a few feet below. Holding back a raucous laughter that would probably wake the dead I peered over the sill, only to see the sprawl of tanned limbs, blue hair and richly dyed fabric that was Grimmjow. _

"_Fuckin' hell" he growled low in his throat, hands rising to cup his head. I couldn't hold back the laugh any more; it was beginning to eat at my windpipe. The light, barking sound overtook my ears, and those of the disgruntled madman outside. "Get a life ginger!" he looked up at me groggily._

"_You'll see the funny side one day!" I hauled the still wine-heavy amphora onto the sill "Hair of the dog? Dog!" without hesitating I poured the ruby liquid down onto him, the fluid broke over his nose and cheeks, staining them. I saw his blue eyes widen in disbelief before he swore and screwed them shut against the stinging liquid. Restraining myself, I finally stopped the flow of wine, righting the amphora once more. _

"_I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he said the words slowly, while attempting to haul himself to his feet. I did what any man would do, I ran, as fast as my scrawny legs would carry me. _

_Hopefully I will have a proper chapter for you all in the near future! Adieu till next time!_


	8. Chapter 6 This Is War

Chapter Six – This Is War

Ichigo's Point of View

_I sat uncomfortably outside our tent, imprisoned in bronze armour that didn't quite fit. The claustrophobic beaten helmet sat in my lap, fingers running listlessly through the horsehair plume. While I was praying to all of the God's I could think of Grimmjow came out of the tent behind me. I could feel his gaze on my back, almost as if it was heating the metal. _

"_Ready?" I could hear the excitement in the rough undertones of his voice. But there was also an anxious ring to it. _

"_No" I didn't bother lying to him. _

"_Don't come then" his voice was strained, tone clipped into harsh blocks. "I'll tell them that you're sick" _

"_It wouldn't be far from the truth" I could feel the bile rising and falling like a stinging tide in my throat. My knuckles were white with the tight grip on my spear. I looked at the clean, worked iron tip. "But I must go, I can't hide behind you forever Grimm" I rose, slowly, to my feet. The bronze plate over my chest settled lower, the strain of its weight tugging at my shoulders. He looked at me, said nothing, and showed nothing in his eyes. _

_After a few tense moments of silence, staring into cold topaz eyes, he turned and walked away. I followed, but he didn't look back to check that I had. I felt odd, as if my body was suddenly too heavy and misshapen, it was like adolescence all over again. I could catch my reflection in the back of Grimmjow's armour. My cheekbones and jaw were more angular than I remembered them, and my dull brown eyes peered out from deeper sockets. It was the first time I had seen my hair since Grimmjow had cropped the front short about a week ago, long orange strands still fell over my back in mismatched directions. _

_As he walked Grimmjow eased his own bronze helmet onto his head, the bright blue plume almost like a beacon, marking him out as a prince, a worthy target. I wasn't ready to imprison myself in the same way yet. Walking through the camp I could see the other men pulling on their armour, emerging from their tents ready for battle. Another wave of nausea gripped me as the reality gripped me. My fingers closed tighter around the spear and helmet, chasing any remaining colour from my knuckles. _

_I quickened my pace to catch up with Grimmjow "What do I do?" I asked him in a hushed tone._

"_What do you mean?" he eyed me from the shadows cast over his face. _

"_In battle" I laughed inside at how stupid I sounded, especially as I was talking to Grimmjow, the best warrior in our large army. _

"_Just stay close to me" he said it with a finality that told me to shut my mouth. I wanted to protest, to ask him how to kill in battle, to ask him how to not get killed myself. _

_We had reached the main armoury, before I knew it a circular bronze shield was shoved at me. I took it, placing the helmet on the floor before linking my left arm through the leather straps held onto its reverse. _

"_You'll need to put that on you know, not just carry it around!" Grimmjow pointed at the polished bronze and horsehair. In a moment he decided that actions were better and picked it off the floor before forcing it over my skull. He rapped the metal a few times after he had finished "So you don't lose yer brains!" the tinny sound echoed loudly and I could feel my ears being pressed flush against my head. "Come on" his voice now sounded far away and distorted. The cramped space only served to amplify the rush of blood and adrenaline in my ears. _

_Before I could find a way back to the tent and safety we were organised into lines, with our shields held in front of our chests and spears clutched tightly. I was near the back, a few rows behind Grimmjow, who was easy to spot in his chariot as we marched towards the enemy. From where I was the only sign that the Trojans were close enough to see was a chorus of shouts from the front few rows. Most of it was mindless swearing, a product of hot blood and adrenaline. However, I did pick out the word "charge" from the shouts. With this our phalanx broke into a run, the high ranking officers at the front trying to keep the men in line, keeping a solid wall against the enemy. I had to work hard to keep up with the row in front of me, my breath grew ragged and tore at the inside of my throat until I could taste the bitter tang of iron. The bronze was heavy, and its weight grabbed down at my shoulders with every pace, pulling the muscles there. Eventually I could see the Trojan phalanx between the heads of the men in our own. They were also running towards us, a few men in chariots ran alongside them, holding back a bit to await the chaos when the two forces clashed. _

_They were only twenty paces away now; the first spears would clash any second. I fought the urge to screw my eyes shut as I ran, counting down the paces. Too soon I heard the telltale crack of wood splintering, the clatter of metal on metal and the screams of men with sharp iron in their flesh. _

_Ok, sorry about the cliffhanger, but I have shifted my writers block with this now and wanted to write the next section from Grimmjow's point of view. Thankyou again for your lovely reviews, keep 'em comin'! Adieu till next time!_


	9. Chapter 7 This Is War Pt 2

Chapter Seven – This Is War (Pt. 2)

Grimmjow's Point of View

"_CHARGE!" The man in front of me flicked his whip at the horses pulling the chariot as the phalanx beside us broke into a run. As they broke into a canter the floor beneath me shifted, testing my balance. I took a moment to look back at where I knew Ichigo was running, I caught his gaze, brown irises dyed black by the shadow of his helmet. I turned my attention back to the spear fodder that made up the opposing phalanx, stupid bastards._

_Effortlessly changing my stance and balance I hefted a spear into the air, arm held back ready to throw. _

_As the first sharp sounds of the clash broke into my ears I sent the weapon in a swift arc towards one of the Trojans, a short, heavy set man built like an ox. The iron sank through a gap in his armour, slicing between his ribs. Before he had even screamed I was throwing another spear at the man next to him. _

"_Bring me back around, then when I say take us into the Trojan phalanx" I roared at the charioteer, a young boy with steely courage to match any great man. _

"_Yes, sir" he gathered the reins in his thin fingers and brought the horses around in a tight circle, and I was facing the Trojans again before long. I could see the clash of men, fallen and wounded from both sides, blood turning the dried ground into thick, sickening mud. I wanted to check the crowd of screaming men for Ichigo, but held myself in check. _

"_Slow it down" he followed my command, and I launched two more spears, hitting two more men, they fell quickly, breaking the enemy line. "NOW!" the crack of the whip split through even the din of the battle. The horses whinnied and launched into the breach. _

_I grabbed the sword from my belt, hefting it through the men in my path, thick, warm blood flecked onto my face and chest. Most of them scattered and ran, but the horses were too quick, and they were either mowed down or fell victim to my sword. I heard my men behind me, screaming their bloodlust and surging after me. _

_Ichigo._

"_Swing back! NOW" _

"_Sir?" he looked back at me, confusion on his features._

"_DO IT!" for the first time I felt my heart in my throat, pulsing through the sting of rising bile. I stayed standing as the chariot swung round fast, still hacking out at any Trojan flesh I could reach. As I was facing my men again I frantically searched for him, finally the sight of long orange hair caught my eye. So did the glimmering point of a Trojan sword driving towards his throat. "OVER THERE!" I pointed towards him so the charioteer could see "HURRY!" _

_The chariot lurched dangerously, and I had to regain my balance. I could see the blade almost touching the pale skin of Ichigo's throat. Picking up my last spear I threw it, left-handed, trusting only my ability this time and hoping that the bronze shield on that arm hadn't affected my aim. It flicked out in front of us, striking Ichigo's attacker dead in the neck. The chariot was behind him now, he dropped the sword and reached to his neck, where thick, red arterial blood was being forced from the wound "Fuckin' bastard!" I hollered down at him, lashing down with my sword, driving the blade down behind his clavicles and into his chest. He fell almost instantly, heart severed in two. A small area where no Trojans dare approach had formed around me, and Ichigo stared at me with horror as I had the chariot brought to a stop. _

"_What the fuck?" he choked out._

"_Can you keep your balance?" I offered my hand down to him and dragged him up onto the chariot when he didn't answer quickly enough. "Just fuckin' hold on 'kay?" I saw him grab the side of the chariot for dear life as we shot into battle again. _

_I yelled out, a strong guttural cry, as we ploughed back into the remaining Trojan troops. I had avoided the two chariots so far, each one containing a son of Priam. However one drew near me now, a young man with angular, pretty-boy features stood behind an even younger charioteer. As he got closer I could see his honey coloured eyes and pink hair under the confines of his helmet. I knew it was Paris, the cause of this whole mess. A bow was clenched in his left hand, the right notching another arrow into it. The weapon of a coward. _

"_Move us on, fast, over there" I didn't want to face him just yet, I wanted him humiliated beyond repair. Instead I pointed to a small throng of Trojans still engaged in a clash with my men. Once we were there I vaulted over the side of the chariot, feet landing with a splat in the blood and dirt. "Take him back to camp, now!" I turned quickly before I could be ambushed and fell into the battle. Holding my shield up to cover my neck I drove forward with the sharp sword, swiping it into their sides, arms, and necks if they had let their guard down. "How do ya like that then bastards!" My face was slick with other men's blood, it dripped over my lips and into my mouth. I spat at the floor before launching at the next man who was stupid, or battle crazed, enough to approach me, and then the next. At least Ichigo was safe, for now. _

_Wow, two chapters in a day eh? ^^ haha. Sorry for the spam, but I didn't want to keep flicking between viewpoints in one chapter, as I'd have confused myself more than anything! Thanks for reading ^^ Adieu till next time!_


	10. Chapter 8 Falling to Pieces

Chapter Eight – Falling to Pieces

Ichigo's Point of View

The men were returning from another day of battle, their armour streaked and dulled by blood. I saw several patting each other on the back, some carrying or supporting dead or injured comrades. I watched all of this from the cold marble perch of Grimmjow's memorial. I had seen the armies fight earlier today, gone was their discipline and pride, and the fear factor that had accompanied Grimmjow's presence.

"How did this happen Grimm?" I watched as they all went back to their tents in different areas of the camp. "I wish you could hear me Grimm, I want to know where you are. Do you even still think of me?"

"_Yes" _the sound came as a rough whisper, as if the sound had bounced from stone and dirt before reaching me. But the voice was so distinctly _his_.

"Grimmjow!" I became hyper aware of my surroundings, looking for him everywhere, listening for him. Time passed, I only knew that because the sun rolled further towards the horizon, and I still did not hear him again. "Grimm?" still nothing.

I went back to focusing on the camp again, some men washing the blood from them in the stream, others, still bloodied, hauling chunks of meat onto fires to cook, women carrying amphorae of wine and buckets of water here and there. The usual post battle routine, bringing back more memories.

_I sat in our tent in a silent rage, not caring if the blue haired bastard ever came back from that stupid fight. How dare he send me away like I was some scared woman? Spatters of dark crimson were flecked over my body; I had only ditched the uncomfortable bronze chest plate and helmet when I got back to the tent, leaving the rest of my armour and clothes in place._

_After what seemed like eons the clatter and brawl of the army returning sounded through the camp, from their triumphant hollering I could tell they had won the battle. Rising to my feet I pushed out of the tent, intending to head to the nearby stream to wash the foreign blood from my skin. Instead I ran into a solid wall of bloodied brass and blue. _

"_Where ya goin?" he looked down at me from the shadows of his helmet before pulling it from his head. _

"_The stream" I gestured to the blood flecked all over me. My voice was clipped and rough. _

"_I'll come with you" I had no heart to stop him, all my anger had dissipated when I saw him. I just resumed walking, looking back to see him leave his helmet in the tent before following. _

_The walk was made in silence, the soft clank of bronze and the creak of leather kept it from being too suffocating. I plunged my feet straight into the stream when we reached it, wanting to wash my shoes of the blood. Grimmjow paused at the stream's edge; his fingers deftly releasing the buckles holding the brilliantly polished sheets of bronze to his arms, chest and legs before placing it all on the ground. Now that I properly looked at him I saw how covered in blood he was, it caked and dried on his hands and forearms, even the pale tunic he wore under his armour was partially stained crimson. Only his blue hair, which had been crushed under the helmet, had escaped the spatter. _

_I went back to washing the blood from my own skin as he splashed into the water behind me. I kept my back towards him, still wanting him to know I wasn't happy with him. I knew his pride wouldn't let him apologise without some kind of prompt. _

"_Ichigo" I felt his hand on my shoulder, cooled from the fresh water. He tugged to pull me to face him. He looked into my eyes before he spoke, gauging my mood "I'm sorry, but I almost lost it when I saw you almost get killed" _

"_You don't say!" I remembered the rush of relief that had come when the spear had struck my attacker in the neck, making him drop his sword from my exposed throat. _

"_Ichi, don't be like this! You didn't even want to be there anyway!" _

"_That's not the point Grimmjow!" my voice rose in volume a little._

"_What is the point then?" he growled back at me. "You want to get killed? Is that it?" he threw his arms out to the side in frustration._

"_No, I don't, and I don't want you to get killed either!" his face paled at my words, the weight of his death sentence hanging over his head._

"_You have no choice in that" his voice was suddenly quiet, resigned. _

"_I know" I sighed the words, my shoulders falling. "But if you never kill Hector, it won't happen right?" I could feel hope spreading like a cancer through my chest, eating away all reason and sanity. _

"_It won't work that way Ichi, you know that" he began to walk up to the bank, stooping to pick up his armour on the way out. I just stood in the water and watched him walk away. I called after him, being struck to silence when he didn't turn around. _


End file.
